Slike strani
PDF
ePub

LETTER XVIII.

To Mrs. Thrale. On the death of Mr. Thrale.

Dearest madam,

London, April 5, 1781.

Of your injunctions, to pray for you and write to you, I hope to leave neither unobserved. I am not without my part of the calamity. No death since that of my wife, has ever oppressed me like this. But let us remember, that we are in the hands of HIM who knows when to give, and when to take away: who will look upon us, with mercy, through all our variations of existence; and who invites us to call upon him in the day of trouble. Call upon HIM in this great revolution of life, and call with confidence. You will then find comfort for the past, and support for the future. HE who has given you happiness in marriage, to a degree, of which, without personal knowledge, I should have thought the description fabulous, can give you another mode of happiness, as a mother; and at last, the happiness of losing all temporal cares in the thoughts of an eternity in Heaven.

I do not exhort you to reason yourself into tranquillity. We must first pray, and then labour; first implore the blessing of God, and then use those means which he puts into our hands. Cultivated ground has few weeds: a mind occupied by lawful business, has little room for use, less regret.

We read the will to-day but I will not fill my first letter with any other account than that, with all my zeal for your advantage, I am satisfied; and that the other executers, more used to consider property than I, commended it for wisdom and equity. Yet why should I

not tell

you

you that have five hundred pounds for your: immediate expenses, and two thousand pounds a year, with both the houses, and all the goods?

Let us pray for one another, that the time, whether, long or short, that shall yet be granted us, may be well spent; and that when this life, which at the longest is very short, shall come to an end, a better may begin, which shall never end.

I am, dearest madam, yours, &c.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

It is now long since we saw one another; and whatever has been the reason, neither you have written to me, nor I to you. To let friendship die away by negligence and silence, is certainly not wise. It is voluntarily to throw away one of the greatest comforts of this weary pilgrimage; of which when it is taken finally away, he who travels on alone, will wonder how his esteem could be so little. Do not forget me; you see that I do not forget you. It is pleasing in the silence of solitude, to think, that there is one at least, however distant, of whose benevolence there is little doubt, and whom there is yet hope of seeing again.

Of my life, from the time we parted, the history is mournful. The spring of last year deprived me of Thrale, a man whose eye for fifteen years had scarcely been turned upon me but with respect or tenderness; for such another friend, the general course of human things will not suffer man to hope. I passed the summer at

Streatham, but there was no Thrale; and having idled away the summer with a weakly body and a neglected mind, I made a journey to Staffordshire on the edge of winter. The season was dreary; I was sickly; and I found the friends sickly whom I went to see. After a sorrowful sojourn, I returned to a habitation possessed for the present by two sick women; where my dear old friend, Mr. Levett, (to whom, he used to tell me, I owe your acquaintance,) died a few weeks ago, suddenly in his bed; there passed not, I believe, a minute between health and death. At night, as at Mrs. Thrale's, I was musing in my chamber, I thought, with uncommon earnestness, that however I might alter my mode of life, or whithersoever I might remove, I would endeavour to retain Levett about me: in the morning, my servant brought me word that Levett was called to another state; a state for which, I think, he was not unprepared. How much soever I valued him, I now wish that I had valued him more.

I have myself been ill more than eight weeks of a disorder, from which, at the expense of about fifty ounces of blood, I hope I am now recovering.

You, dear sir, have, I trust, a more cheerful scene: you see George fond of his books, and my own little Jenny equal to the best; and in every thing that can contribute to your quiet or pleasure, you have lady Rothes ready to concur. May whatever you enjoy of good be increased, and whatever you suffer of evil be diminished!

I am, dear sir,

Your humble servant,

Samuel Johnson,

Dear sir,

LETTER XX.

To Mr. Hector, at Birmingham.

That you should have care or curiosity about my health, gives me that pleasure which every man feels from finding himself not forgotten. In age, we feel again that love of our native place and our early friends, which, in the bustle or amusement of middle life, was overborne and suspended. You and I should now naturally cling to one another: we have outlived most of those who could pretend to rival us in each other's kindness. In our walk through life, we have dropped our companions; and we are now to pick up such as may offer, or to travel on alone. You, indeed, have a sister, with whom you can divide the day: I have no natural friend left; but Providence has been pleased to preserve me from neglect; I have not wanted such alleviations of life as friendship could supply.-My health has been, from my twentieth year, such as has seldom afforded me a single day of ease: but it is at least not worse; and I sometimes make myself believe that it is better. My disorders are, however, still sufficiently oppressive.

I think of seeing Staffordshire again this autumn; and I intend to find my way through Birmingham, where I hope to see you and dear Mrs. Careless well.

I am, sir, your affectionate friend,

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

Dear sir,

LETTER XXI.

To James Boswell, esq.

London, March 28, 1782.

The pleasure which we used to receive from each other on Good-Friday and Easter-day, we must this year be content to miss. Let us, however, pray for each other; and hope to see one another yet, from time to time, with mutual delight. My disorder has been a cold, which impeded the organs of respiration, and kept me many weeks in a state of great uneasiness; but by repeated phlebotomy it is now relieved: and, next to the recovery of Mrs. Boswell, I flatter myself that you will rejoice at mine.

What we shall do in the summer, it is yet too early to consider. You want to know what you shall do now; I do not think this time of bustle and confusion likely to produce any advantage to you. Every man has those to reward and gratify, who have contributed to his advancement. To come hither with such expectations, at the expense of borrowed money, which you know not where to borrow, can hardly be considered as prudent. I am sorry to find, what your solicitation seems to imply, that you have already gone the whole length of your credit. This is to set the quiet of your whole life at hazard. If you anticipate your inheritance, you can at last inherit nothing; all that you receive must pay for the past. You must get a place; or pine in penury, with the empty name of a great estate. Poverty, my dear friend, is pregnant with so much temptation, and so much misery, that I cannot but earnestly enjoin you to avoid it. Live on what you have; live if you can on less; do not bor

« PrejšnjaNaprej »